Chapter Nine

AMELIA

“It’s so good to hear your voice,” I say as I turn onto the street of my father’s nursing home. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Trey exhales. “I miss you so damn much, Amelia.” He sighs, frustration clear in his voice. “It’s been busy at work lately. I feel like I’ve been working non-stop.”

Things have been a little tense with Trey since he didn’t get the job he interviewed for. He thought it was a sure thing, given his experience and qualifications, but they went with someone in-house. The night he told me, I cried myself to sleep. I want him here; this time apart is starting to take a toll on me, especially with Aaron next door. He is starting to become more than “cordial.”

It’s almost like he’s trying to be friends, and that terrifies me.

“Sounds like it. Your job has never been this demanding. I feel like even if I was there with you, I still wouldn’t see you.”

He chuckles into the phone as I park my car. “I think you’re right. I’m sorry, Amelia. I don’t mean to ignore you. I hope my texts here and there have at least been something.” He hasn’t been ignoring me, but it’s just been harder—read, almost impossible—to connect with him at night.

“They have.” I decide to stay in the car to talk to Trey for a bit longer since he’s able to carve out some time to talk. Also, I don’t want to take my attention away from my father, and the mac and cheese I made him is in an insulated bag, so I don’t have to worry about the dish getting cold. “I’ve missed seeing your face though. It kills me going to bed without your arms wrapped tightly around me.”

“I know, sweetheart. Fuck, I hate this so much. Want me to take a picture when we get off the phone and send it to you? So you can see my face again?”

I chuckle. “Is it going to be a nice picture, or like the one you sent me three days ago of you with your tongue hanging out?”

He quietly laughs. “I thought you wanted to see your favorite part of me.”

“It’s sad that you think your tongue is my favorite part of your body.”

“I don’t know.” He pauses. “Almost seems like it was before you left, the way you came all over it. And the way you screamed my name in the back of your car before dinner when I was in Binghamton.”

“Trey!” God, do I remember. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard like that, especially in the backseat of my car in an Olive Garden parking lot. My face heats up just thinking about that day.

His laugh fills my car, making me feel elated but also sad. The emptiness that’s plagued me since I left the city is amplified. I miss that daily interaction.

I miss staying up late with him, lying in our bed, and discussing our favorite show, Game of Thrones. I miss cooking dinner for both of us while he dances to eighties music like a goof. I miss our Skeeball league, our Friday movie nights, the cooking classes we took together. I miss him, but on the days when he’s too busy to even send a text, I have felt annoyed too. I think of him every day, and therefore text him every day, so I haven’t been able to get my head around his absence, if I’m truly honest with myself. And I know what he’s like when he’s super stressed. Not that that’s often . . .

Still laughing, Trey says, “You set yourself up for that one, so you can’t yell at me.” He pauses for a second and asks, “Are you still coming down for your birthday weekend?”

“Of course. I’m counting the days.”

“Good.” He sounds relieved. “I was nervous you were having too much fun up there in your old stomping ground.”

Fun? If only he knew the kind of “fun” I’ve been having. I wouldn’t call my stint in Binghamton so far fun. More confusing, a little heartbreaking, and a whole lot of what the hell is happening to my life.

“Not so much. I don’t get out much. Just visiting my dad and trying to settle into my new job. My friends don’t live in the area anymore.” Besides one, but we don’t have to get into that.

“That’s hard. Soon. I have some résumés in with a few tech companies I feel confident about. The wait will be worth it, Amelia.”

“I know. It’s just hard.” And that’s the God’s honest truth. Every night I come home ragged, tired, and mentally exhausted. All I want to do is fall into a pair of supportive arms to help carry my worries.

“The best things in life are hard. Hang in there, beautiful.” He clears his throat, regret lacing his words. “But hey, I have to go, I’m meeting up with the guys from work for some basketball, and then I have that stupid Halloween party to go to tonight.”

“The one your client is hosting?”

He exhales. “The one and only. It’s such trash. No alcohol, no shoptalk, just enjoying some wholesome tofu and making macaroni necklaces with kids. Should be a real treat.”

“Mail me what you make and make it spooky.”

Chuckling, he says, “I’ll do my best. I love you, Amelia. Talk to you later.”

“Okay. Love you.”

We hang up and I think about what it would have been like if I were in the city this weekend with Trey, going to his work party. Even though he told me not to come because it would be boring as hell, it still would have been nice to watch him try to choke down some tofu and make macaroni necklaces at a kiddie table. No. I don’t care about the party. It would just be nice to be with the other half of my heart.

However, I will have a nice time with my dad, my famous mac and cheese, and a good game of checkers.

When I exit my car, I receive a text from Trey. A picture. I open up the text quickly, and I’m greeted by my handsome man, a smirk gracing his lips, brilliantly blue eyes sparkling, and his hair pushed to the side with his hand. God, he’s so freaking handsome. I sigh and text him back.

Amelia: So handsome.

I pocket my phone. It’s my dad’s time now, and I won’t begrudge making the choice to come. However, Heather stops me as I make my way to his room. She’s definitely one of my favorite nurses.

“Amelia, what a joy to see you today.” She’s wearing your typical cat ears and whiskers with black scrubs for Halloween. I love that her costume won’t interfere with how she takes care of the residents.

I point to my head. “Your ears are very fetching.”

She taps them and laughs. “You know, I kind of forgot they were there. Doesn’t seem like the residents care too much about my attempt to dress up for them.”

“I’m sure they appreciate it.” I look down the hallway toward Dad’s room. “How’s my dad today? Is he ready for some mac and cheese and checkers?” I hold up my bags indicating the fun activity planned for him.

Heather moves her lip to the side in disappointment as she twists her hands together. “He’s not having the best day today, dear. That’s why I came over here to talk to you before you reach his room. He had to be sedated this morning because he was having an episode with the staff, trying to break out of his room, asking for your mother.”

It’s like a knife just twisted into my heart, ripping a deep crevice in the middle. He was asking about Mom? Fuck. My throat starts to close in and tears begin to well in my eyes. I miss my mom so much. Being so much older than my friends’ moms, she was almost like the token cool grandma to my friends. They all loved her. She was warm, welcoming, funny, and always had a shoulder to lean on when anyone needed one. So, it hasn’t surprised me that my dad went downhill so quickly after she died. They were married for over forty years. They were true soul mates. In fact, the rich and solid love I saw in them was what I thought Aaron and I would share. How wrong I was.

“What was he asking?”

Full of sensitivity, Heather ushers me into a small empty room off the hallway and says, “He was asking about her wedding dress, if she was able to fix the tear. He said he refused to not get married today.”

My hand goes to my mouth as tears start to fall. It’s a story I remember my dad vividly telling me every once in a while before I went to bed, about the day he married my mom. She had a tear in her dress, one along the back of the zipper, and it was so embarrassing that she refused to walk down the aisle. My dad caught wind of what happened and broke all the “rules” of the wedding day, went into the bridal suite she was crying in, and wrapped his arms around her only to ask why she was so upset. She showed him the tear and his exact words were, “So what?” Could you imagine your husband saying that to you about your wedding dress on your wedding day? It was a typical Dad response. Being the free spirit my mom was, she took a second to dry her eyes and then agreed with him. “So what?” is what she said back, and from there, they got married, strained zipper and all.

Seems like a simple story, but my dad told it to my sister and me many times to remind us never to sweat the small things. If things aren’t quite going our way, remember life could be worse and live by the term . . .

“So what?” I ask myself quietly, trying not to let my dad’s bad day set me back. I came here with the purpose of having some fun with him, and that’s what I plan on doing.

Taking a deep breath, tamping down my worry, I say, “Thanks for letting me know, Heather. I really appreciate it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? It might not be a good day to visit.”

“Maybe not, but I’d still like to see him. I’m here so I may as well go in.”

“Okay.” Heather walks me to my dad’s room. “There is an emergency button in his room if he has another episode. Just hit it and we will be right in, okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” Heather retreats as I peek through the little window looking into my dad’s room. He’s sitting in a rocking chair looking out the window, a blanket draped over his shoulders.

When did he get so old?

He’s always been an older dad, but to see him like this—debilitated both mentally and physically—is heartbreaking. He’s a completely different man.

I don’t bother knocking on the door. Instead, I let myself in and quietly shut the door behind me. I place the mac and cheese on the bed as well as my bag that holds the box of checkers and call out, “Hey Dad.”

He doesn’t move, not even a flinch from hearing my voice, so I take a few steps toward him but to the side so he can see me approaching. I don’t want to startle him in case he’s sleeping.

“Hey Dad,” I repeat. “Happy Halloween.”

He blinks but shows no emotion, only stares out the window, one of his hands gripping the blanket that’s wrapped around his shoulders.

I take a few more steps until I’m next to the chair across from his. I sit and study my father. There are bags under his eyes, frown lines framing his mouth, and liver spots on his hands. He’s aged, so weathered, so not the man I grew up with.

Leaning forward, I gently place my hand on his knee. “Hi, Dad, pretty day out, huh?”

No response.

“I brought some mac and cheese for our lunch. Instead of using breadcrumbs on top, I used your favorite, crushed-up Cheetos.”

No response.

Sighing, I lean back and just start talking. If anything, maybe he’ll enjoy listening.

“My new job has been interesting. A lot of troubled teens in these parts. The amount of kids I’ve had to talk to about drug use is startling, especially heroin. It’s an awful drug running rampant in New York right now. Kind of scary actually.” He blinks. “The teachers are nice. There’s an English teacher who I think I could trick into being my friend. She makes these amazing chocolate chip cookies every Friday and brings them into the faculty lounge. I mean, who doesn’t want to be friends with a chocolate chip cookie master, am I right?” I nudge his knee, but he doesn’t even acknowledge me.

“I know what you’re thinking, does she put walnuts in the cookies? Guess what, Dad? She makes two batches. I know. She’s dedicated. I really think she has her eyes on the geometry teacher who loves walnuts in his cookies, just like you. I’ll get a little closer to her and find out the info and report back to you. Who knows, there might be love in the air at school.”

I stare out the window for a few seconds. “I was almost egged by a bunch of seventy-year-olds last night. The street where I live is very serious about their holiday decorating, and I wasn’t aware. They harassed me because I hadn’t decorated. But don’t worry, I made everything right by going out and grabbing decorations. I styled up the house, and it looks pretty good. I used a bunch of fake spider webs and corn husks. Kind of spooky.”

I fail to mention Aaron’s name because I don’t want to upset my dad. Aaron was the son my dad never had. When they first met, my dad was reticent around him until Aaron started showing up every Sunday for family dinner. Instead of hanging out with me, he would hang out with my dad, helping him around the house with things that were getting too difficult like yard work, shoveling, and even cleaning. It was one of the reasons I fell so desperately in love with Aaron; he loved my father as if he was his own and cared for him

I don’t want to chance making Dad’s day worse by mentioning Aaron. When we broke up, it was horrible for both of us. Not only did I move away shorty after that, but my dad also lost a son. Aaron, obviously, didn’t feel he could still hang with my dad, and I know my dad missed him. Part of me wishes Aaron had kept up with Dad, because I think right now, he could do with another friend making an effort, visiting him. Caring.

Resigned that Heather was right, I decide to serve up the mac and cheese and try to enjoy my father’s silent company. I call down for some dishes, which are brought up quickly, and divvy up the mac and cheese, only giving my dad a little because from Heather’s updates, I know he doesn’t each much. Although that’s evident in the weight he’s lost.

When I bring the bowl to him, he doesn’t even look at it. I set it down on the side table next to him and take my seat. As he looks out the window, I hold back the threatening tears.

It’s funny how some foods become comfort foods in life. Dad and I used to love having mac and cheese together. It simply became our thing. But as I look at him, see how lost and empty he looks, I wonder if this is it for him? Is he gone forever? My mouthful tastes like plastic, perhaps more from my pain than the ingredients.

Is he gone forever?

I’m not ready. I’m not ready to say goodbye to my dad, not even close.

Please come back to me, Dad. I still need my daddy by my side. Please come back.

***

I roll my car into the garage and put it in park just in time to hand out candy. Since I’m late to the game, it was slim pickings at the store, so I ended up getting Tootsie Rolls, bags upon bags upon bags of Tootsie Rolls . . . Halloween’s trash candy. If the golden-age gang don’t egg me, the kids will.

I talked to my sister on the way home, letting her know Dad had a bad day. She was short on the phone, not really into the conversation, but this is no surprise to me. She has a hard time dealing with Dad’s degenerating mind and body. It’s too hard for her, which I can understand because it’s just as hard on me.

When I get off the phone, I realize how lonely I am. It was right to move back, but I’m out of synch with my normal routine. I miss the city, which surprises me. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my dad. God, I so miss my dad. He’s always been my anchor, and without that, without Amanda too, it feels like too much. I need someone who loves me to hold me. To tell me it will be okay, even if it’s not true. When Mom died, she left a gaping hole in my heart that I knew only time would heal. I’m not ready for another hole there, though. I need Dad to fight to stay with me. With us.

It’s too much.

Sighing, I wipe away a stray tear and exit my car. I pop the trunk and take out the bags of trash candy. This freaking street and their holiday spirit. Out of all the streets in Binghamton, this is the one I had to end up on.

“Need help with that?”

Aaron.

Of course he’s here to help. Isn’t he always here to help when I have to empty my car?

Wiping away another tear, I swallow and say, “I’ve got it.”

“Are those Tootsie Rolls?”

Ugh, of course he would notice.

“It was all that was left.” I keep my head turned toward the car as my emotions start to get the best of me.

Do not cry over Tootsie Rolls. Do. Not. Cry.

“Not even Tootsie Pops, you got Tootsie Rolls.”

My throat closes in on me.

Oh no, it’s going to happen . . .

“You didn’t even get the fruit-flavored ones or the giants ones. You bought regular Tootsie Rolls.”

My nose stings, and I can’t form a sentence, my throat is so tight. I try not to blink because the minute I do . . .

My eyelids shut and just like that, a flood of tears falls down my face as I hiccup and suck in a deep breath of air. My body shakes and I grip the other bags in my trunk.

The dam broke, and even though I’m trying fucking hard to stop it, there is no end in sight.

Cue the waterworks.

Cue the sniffles.

Cue the snot . . . cue all the snot.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice softens as he quickly comes up behind me. He places one of his hands on my shoulder and turns me so he can look me in the eyes. Bending down slightly, he tilts up my chin and when he sees my tears, his jaw goes slack and worry etches across his face. “Amelia, what’s wrong?”

“They only had Tootsie Rolls,” I sob.

“Okay, not a problem. It’s candy. It’s not like you have tubes of toothpaste or something lame like that.” I know he’s trying to console me, but there is something incredibly awkward about the way he’s doing it, as if he doesn’t quite know if he should hug me or not. I get it. But right now, all I want is to be held. Hugged. Consoled. Loved.

“I didn’t know about the street traditions.” I start chucking Tootsie Roll bags on the driveway, tossing them out of my car until there is nothing left. “Someone should have told me about the stupid traditions. What do you do, hand out full-size candy bars?” My voice is shrill, I’m overreacting big time, and I bet if I looked up I would see that I’ve drawn attention from the neighbors around us.

“We hand out regular candy. I was kidding, Amelia. Tootsie Rolls are fine.”

“They’re trash,” I say while throwing my arms in the air and stomping toward the back of the garage where I pull down an old-looking lawn chair Mrs. Ferguson left behind. I bring it to the middle of my driveway, stack the Tootsie Roll bags on top of each other, sit down in the chair, and start opening bags. I toss the Tootsie Rolls and wipe at my tears. “Come get your trash candy.” I sprinkle my driveway. I’ve genuinely lost it.

I was right. I am drawing attention. All my neighbors are sitting on their porches, staring at me as if I’ve lost my damn mind.

Well, guess what? I have.

And you know what’s the old kick to the crotch about all of this? Individuals older than my dad, at least by ten years, are highly functioning, functioning enough to chase down a young lady and threaten her with eggs.

It’s a twisted reminder that life isn’t fair.

And before you think I’m going down the woe-is-me path, let’s just break this down . . .

I’ve moved into a crochet-infused house that so happens to be next door to a man I once thought I’d marry. Denture-encrusted oldies surround me, a constant reminder that my dad’s health is declining quickly. The man I love is busy and unavailable when I need him most, and the man who should be an asshole, bald and fat—even if he is only thirty—is hot, thriving, living a great life, and not an asshole.

That is what I call NOT FAIR!

“Stupid muscles and abs,” I mutter, now trying to toss Tootsie Rolls into a small pothole in the middle of the street.

Expecting to feel Aaron right behind me, ready to save the day like he always does, I turn around to see that he actually left. Well, not surprised there either. He’s probably back in his house praising the relationship gods that he dodged a bullet when it came to me. I wouldn’t put it past him to call up Mrs. Ferguson to warn her about her tenant. Or maybe the golden-age gang has already made that call.

Feeling worse than before my sobbing fit, I lean forward, head in hands, and cry.

Why does my dad have to leave me now? I already lost my mom, why my dad too? And why so fast? It seemed like it was yesterday he had me to his house for Sunday night dinner. He might have been a little shakey, a little off, but he could still talk to me.

Not today.

I should have listened to Heather. I should have waited for him to have a good day to visit because now, more than anything, I wish I hadn’t gone. Which makes me feel like the worst daughter on the planet.

I wish I hadn’t even come here to begin with.

Slouching in my chair, I peel apart a Tootsie Roll and plop it in my mouth, letting the imitation chocolate taste hit my taste buds.

Kids are spoiled these days. Tootsie Rolls are gold.

Fuck the rest of the candy. Tootsie Rolls are where it’s at.